


The Rise of the Dragons

by theinvisibleninja



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Step-Parent, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Morality, F/F, F/M, House Baratheon, House Lannister, House Stark, House Targaryen, M/M, Marriage, Original Character(s), Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibleninja/pseuds/theinvisibleninja
Summary: Terrified of mixing the blood of the dragon with that of common, Westerosi blood, Aerys' fears are put to rest as he betroths his two children to one another, ensuring that the blood of House Targaryen will remain pure for another generation. His plans fall apart when Princess Shaena follows her heart's desire and chooses not to marry a dragon, but a wolf.Aerys' crippling insanity and the recklessness of his children plunges Westeros into a bloody civil war and ends with a Baratheon on the throne. To protect herself and her children, Shaena signs away her claim to the throne and weds King Robert Baratheon, uniting the Houses Targaryen and Baratheon. But the dragon does not bend to the will of the stag, and Shaena will not allow any more harm to come to her family.Nevertheless, anarchy once again divides the continent of Westeros as Stannis Baratheon declares himself king and a dragon with wolf's blood rises in the south, all while the silver queen fights tirelessly to put one of her many children on the throne. In a war of kings, it is the Mother of Dragons who rises above them all.(In which the dragon marries the stag and Westeros is none the better for it.)





	The Rise of the Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Shaena Targaryen survives past birth and sets Westeros on an entirely different path, just not the path everyone expected.

**PROLOGUE I  
** **276AL**

* * *

 

_Many would come to refer to the Tourney at Lannisport as the beginning of the end of House Targaryen. Organised by Lord Tywin of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock to celebrate the birth of Prince Viserys, the tourney would come to be known not for its grandeur or extravagance, but for the secret marriage of Princess Shaena and Lord Brandon of House Stark, heir to the North._

 

* * *

 

 Rhaegar Targaryen was a skilled swordsman. Ever since he had taken up swordfighting, despite having no previous interest in fighting of any kind, Rhaegar had proven himself to be a strong and capable swordsman to all his opponents. Jon Connington marvelled at how the young prince moved with such elegance and grace, with such effortlessness. Had he not adored the prince, he would be overcome with envy.

Nevertheless, he could not help but note that Rhaegar seemed out of sorts this morning. His humour was of stark contrast to the rest of the castle. Prince Viserys’ birth had brightened up the once dull keep. The king’s madness seemed to abate ever so slightly and, even though everyone knew it was temporary, the change was most welcome. 

“I never congratulated you on the birth of your brother,” Jon said, panting as his body tired. He managed to parry every one of Rhaegar’s blows. The crown prince was not in fighting humour this morning, it seemed. “Perhaps we will soon be celebrating the birth of your child soon. What say you, my prince?”

“I say that you will be waiting quite some time,” Rhaegar muttered. His frown deepened. It was a well known fact that the prince and his sister did not get along. Even for siblings, their relationship was strained. As husband and wife... Jon did not believe they suited each other. In fact, there was not a more ill-matched couple in King’s Landing. _Save the king and queen, of course, but that is another kettle of fish entirely._

“What a pity. And here was I looking forward to a royal wedding!” Jon Connington joked. Rhaegar glared at him. Jon sobered and put the sparring match to a halt. “I jest, my prince.”

“Well, don’t,” Rhaegar grumbled. He walked away from Jon and towards the stands. He picked up his towel and wiped the sweat off his face.

“What has you in such a bad humour?” Jon asked. His prince was often thus – sombre and brooding – but never had Jon seen him so grumpy.

“My father, despite his great humour, has decided that Shaena and I are to marry a few months after this wretched tourney,” Rhaegar replied.

“And what of it?” Rhaegar glared at him. Jon only shrugged in response. “What? You have known your whole life – well, ever since your sister was born – that you were to marry her. You are well prepared, are you not? There is no point in grumbling over what you have no control over.”

“It is not right,” Rhaegar exclaimed, sitting.

“I thought you were indifferent to the... customs of your family.”

“The incest?” Rhaegar asked, a small smile coming upon his beautiful face. Sheepishly, Jon nodded. “Yes. I have never thought much of it. If I was to marry a sister that I got along with, I would not blink twice, as horrible as that may sound to you.” Jon shook his head. In truth, he could see how the practice was normal to Rhaegar, when his own parents were brother and sister. “But the issue is that Shaena and I have never gotten along. She is spoilt and entitled and bratty. You’ve spoken to her, have you not? You know what she’s like.”

“Aye, I have. She is all those things, indeed. And snobby and loud. But she is your duty, Rhaegar. Remember the woodswitch,” Jon urged him to think about the prophecy. _Those prophecies he loves so much, more than he could ever love another woman – or man._

“I remember,” he grumbled. “But I cannot for the life of me see how my spoilt little sister is expected to raise the prince who was promised.”

“Nor I,” Jon agreed. Of all the women of the realm, how was Shaena Targaryen expected to birth the saviour of the realm? The woodswitch that had visited King Jaehaerys all those years ago promised that the prince who was promised would be born to Rhaella and Aerys’ line. Rhaegar refused to believe that he was the prince and instead believed that his son would be the great saviour.

“What am I to do, Jon? Do I deserve an unhappy life with a girl I know I could never love?”

“Well, I don’t think anyone could deserve you.” _But me,_ he thought to himself. Jon sighed. “But I ask you, Rhaegar, what choice do you have?”

Rhaegar sighed in response. “None. Absolutely none.”

 

* * *

  

There was nothing, _absolutely nothing_ , that Shaena Targaryen enjoyed more than a tourney. Gossiping was a worthy contender, of course, but gossiping did not offer her the opportunity to leave the Red Keep. Sometimes Shaena felt like a prisoner. Her father forbade her from leaving the keep, even though Rhaegar was given the freedom to go where he wished. _“Your brother is the prince. Princes are given more freedoms than princesses,”_ her mother had told her when she asked. Shaena found it a stupid reason. Why should she be caged in the Red Keep like an animal, while her brother was allowed to meet new people and see new things? Why did Rhaegar deserve such a luxury?

“What has you so troubled, sweetling?” Rhaella asked, pulling Shaena out of her trance.

Shaena shook her head and plastered a smile onto her face to soothe her mother. “Nothing, Mother. I was only thinking about the tourney.”

“Hm,” the queen said thoughtfully, bouncing baby Viserys in her arms. “I would have thought you’d be excited to attend the tourney.”

“You have me, Mother. You know me too well.” Shaena smiled at her mother. Her smile soon faltered and she let out a heavy sigh. Her ladies were busy chatting, so she leaned closer to her mother and whispered. “Must I marry Rhaegar so soon? It’s so sudden, and so close to the birth of Viserys...”

Rhaella smiled sadly at Shaena. “I share your feelings. I do, my dear, but I am not the one who decided when your wedding will be, nor do I have the influence to change the date.” Seeing her daughter’s scowl, the queen continued, “Oh, I am sorry, Shaena. But your marriage to Rhaegar was inevitable regardless.”

“I had thought to have more time,” Shaena lamented. “I am not ready.”

“I know, sweetling. Believe me. I know,” she assured her. Rhaella placed a comforting hand upon her daughter’s and gave it a short squeeze. “But are any of us ever really ready? Marriage is a commitment that few are ever ready to make, yet we must marry regardless.”

“I do not want to marry him,” the princess said sternly, a most serious expression on her face. She would rather marry a lowly peasant than Rhaegar. “Not now, not ever.”

“Do you loath him so?” Rhaella asked, shocked. _Oh, Mother, you must have realised by now._ Rhaegar and Shaena had never shared any fondness. They had never shared so much as a kind word. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise – to their mother of all people – that her two children did not get along at all.

 

“Loath is a strong word.” Shaena became thoughtful. “Strongly dislike is more appropriate. He is so dreadfully boring, Mother. His nose is also in some book or another. He cannot keep a conversation going for the life of him, yet everyone seems to love their dear prince Rhaegar!” Shaena couldn’t help how her tone became sardonic and only regretted her harshness when she saw her mother flinch. “Oh, Mother, I know you love Rhaegar and you see the best in him, but he and I are not compatible. Us marrying... well, I think it will be a disaster to be true.”

“Must you be such a doomsayer, Shaena?” her mother chastised.

“I am no doomsayer, Mother. Quite the opposite in fact. I am a realist,” she explained.

The queen pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Will you not try?”

It was Shaena’s turn now to give her mother a pitiful look. Their mother wanted nothing but for her children to be happy. _How it must hurt her to know that her son and daughter will be condemned to a life of unhappiness at the very same wedding ceremony._ “I have tried, Mother. I have tried to make him love me as a sister, then as a friend, and then as a lover. Nothing worked. I have gone out of my way, but he remains stubborn in his loathing of me. I never liked him much anyway.”

Tears shone in her mother’s eyes. _It must be as though history is repeating itself,_ Shaena mused, _two unhappy Targaryens, to be wed to one another against their will._ Only Shaena believed and hoped that Rhaegar would not grow to be as mad as their father. The Mad Prince, would they call him? Or rather mutter the slur behind his back, as they did with her father. What a dynasty! Shaena hoped that her children would be better – better than her father and brother.

“It pains me that you cannot put aside your differences,” Rhaella said. “I love you both fiercely and yet you could never love each other. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, Mother. Nothing at all. You could never do anything wrong,” Shaena promised. She gave her mother a reassuring smile. “The fault lies with Rhaegar and I. Never doubt that.”

“I wonder,” her mother mused. All of a sudden, the queen stood up and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her words were almost croaked. “I’m going to put Viserys to bed.”

Shaena nodded, having to swallow the lump in her throat as well. “Of course. Good day, Mother.”

Her ladies curtsied as the queen left. As soon as she was out of the room, they flocked to Shaena like a flock of hens. Shaena revelled in the attention and grinned. “I take it you have all heard about the tourney!” the princess exclaimed excitedly.

“Yes, of course, princess. Why, everyone is talking about it!” Mina Tyrell replied, with just as much excitement. She was the younger of the Tyrell girls and would soon be married. The Targaryens had been good to House Tyrell, giving three of their members a position in the princess’ household. Both of Mace Tyrell’s sisters and his wife served Shaena, though Shaena only enjoyed the company of Mina.

“And so they should be!” Shaena said, still grinning like a madman. “Ser Barristan believes it will be the best tourney in more than a decade! Of course, Ser Barristan may be more preoccupied with the actual fighting and jousting. Our interests are elsewhere, aren’t they, ladies?”

Her ladies giggled again. “Do you think Ser Arthur will participate in the tourney, princess?” Catelyn Tully, the youngest of her ladies, asked. Her eyes were bright with childish wonder. No doubt this would be her first tourney.

Shaena indulged her. “I have never known the Sword of the Morning to back down from a challenge! And it will be a challenging tourney, of course. Ser Barristan is participating, as is Lord Tywin’s brothers. I hear Lord Stark’s heir is coming south as well for the tourney and Robert Baratheon too!”

“I hear Robert Baratheon is rather handsome,” Janna commented, causing the ladies to giggle again.

“Though the princess does not have need to look for handsome men, not with her wedding approaching,” Alerie Hightower added. She was heavily pregnant with her second child and only sixteen, far too young to have two children in Shaena’s opinion. _I can damn well look for handsome men wherever and whenever I like. I am not wed yet._ “The prince is a fine catch. You cannot hope for a more handsome man.”

“Perhaps not,” the princess replied, a smirk forming on her lips. “But I can surely hope for a more interesting one.”

Her ladies did not laugh with her. Of course, no one dared to slander the name of dear Rhaegar. Shaena scoffed and sipped at her goblet of water.

Ashara Dayne, the Dornish beauty, was next to speak. “Well, I certainly believe that you should use this tourney as an opportunity to taste what fine men the realm has to offer. If it is to be your last chance,” she said, her voice laced with a sultry accent. Ashara winked at her, causing Shaena to laugh heartily.

“What say you, Elia?” Shaena asked the other Dornish lady in her service. Often, she found herself preferring the company of her Dornish ladies. “Should I use this tourney as my last chance of freedom?”

Elia shrugged. “If you so will it, princess, then you ought to taste whatever fruit you can get your hands on.”

Shaena found herself laughing heartily again. “Then so be it! It is decided. For this tourney, I shall be a wanton princess!”

This time, her ladies laughed with her, though their laughter sounded strained and false to Shaena’s trained ears.

 

* * *

  

The journey to Lannisport was long and uncomfortable. Shaena had never been much of a rider, so she did not protest when she was put in a carriage with her ladies. Nonetheless, her arse and legs were cramped from sitting for too long and she requested the company of her most tolerable lady for her walk.

Rayla Spicer was a mystery to Shaena still. She had been the princess’ lady for two years and had been more honest with Shaena than she had with anyone, yet Shaena expected Rayla had more surprises up her sleeve than what met the eye. Nevertheless, she made brilliant company.

“Lannisport smells much better than King’s Landing,” Rayla said, out of the blue. The statement took Shaena by surprise.

She let out an indignant laugh. “That was rather abrupt.”

“’Tis true though, don’t you think?” Rayla mused thoughtfully. “Lannisport is a city as well, yet it manages to not smell like death and shit.”

“You are too frank,” Shaena chastises.

“And you too proper.”

“I ought to have you whipped for your lack of manners,” Shaena joked.

 

Rayla barked a laugh. “You cannot. I know too many of your secrets.”

Shaena’s expression darkened. “You would not dare.”

Rolling her eyes, Rayla hooked her arms in with Shaena’s and smiled charmingly. “Of course not. If I was to out you, then I would have to out myself. I would rather not burn as a witch, thank you very much.”

“Your mother would likely burn as well, and your sisters, perhaps they would figure out your grandmother is a real witch as well,” Shaena replied. She gave her friend a smug grin. “Your whole family burned as witches, just so you could out me.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Depends. Were you threatening me?”

Shaena shared a look with her favourite lady that lasted several seconds before they both started laughing. Arms linked, they walked across the beach, chatting about the tourney and all the handsome men they would see. Just as they had reached the topic of Robert Baratheon and his whoring habits, Shaena noticed a handsome man walking towards them.

As though reading her thoughts, Rayla whispered, “Speaking of handsome men...”

“Indeed,” Shaena replied back.

The gentleman – a lord most likely, judging by his fine attire – inclined his head towards her and bowed. “My lady,” he greeted, a small smirk on his lips that for some reason made Shaena’s heart jump.

Shaena inclined her head to him as well. “My lord.”

Still wearing that cheeky grin, the young man walked passed them. Shaena would describe his walk as rather cocky. As soon as he was out of ear shot, she asked Rayla in a cautious whisper, “Who was that?”

“It must be one of the Starks,” she replied. “Given his dark features and the fact that we have never seen him before, and since Ned Stark is known to be rather broody and shy, it must be the older one – Brandon the heir.”

“You know too much,” Shaena remarked, turning around and walking Brandon Stark as he walked away. As though sensing her eyes on him, Brandon turned around and gave her another one of his cocky grins. Shaena whipped around straight away, grinning and giggling with Rayla. “The nerve!”

“You find him handsome,” Rayla pointed out.

“How did you know?” Shaena asked, surprised.

“I know everything, remember?” Shaena gave her a pointed look, willing her to be serious. Rayla rolled her eyes and answered seriously. “You’re giggling like a lovesick little girl. It is adorable actually.”

“Shut up,” Shaena joked, pushing her friend lightly. “He is so handsome. I hope to see him again.”

“There are ways to ensure things go your way. You have a gift, Shaena. Do not forget that.”

“You sound like your grandmother. The old woodswitch,” Shaena teased, though Rayla remained serious.

“My grandmother is an old and wise woman. Adept at her craft, as well,” Rayla reminded Shaena. She stopped abruptly. Shaena turned around to hear her speak. “Have you been practising lately?”

“Of course not. Do you think I have a death wish?” Shaena replied, appalled at the mere thought. “I may be the king’s daughter, but if he found out I was practising witchcraft, he’d have me burned as quickly as any other woman. He despises witchcraft.” _Unless the witches give him prophecies that boost his ego._ Unfortunately, Shaena had never been gifted at the art of prophecy.

“That doesn’t matter,” Rayla insisted. “I’ll help you.”

“Help me with what, exactly?”

“You do not wish to marry Rhaegar. Any half-blind fool can see that. What if I was to tell you that you might find a solution in magic?”

“No. No. Absolutely not.” She shook her head vehemently. “Your grandmother said it herself. Magic often has unpredictable consequences – fatal consequences, at times. It is not worth the risk.”

“So you would rather marry your brother, a man you dislike with every fibre in your being?”

Shaena glared at Rayla. “I would rather marry him than have him killed because of a silly curse.”

“It is not a curse. It is an _enchantment_ , to make sure everything goes your way,” Rayla responded. “It is not powerful magic. Think of it as insurance. It may not even work and chance may see you married to a man that is not Rhaegar.”

“So then what’s the point? If we cannot be sure?”

“Like I said – insurance,” Rayla repeated herself. “What’s the harm, princess?” Shaena chewed at her lower lip, indecisive. Rayla grinned at her. “Very good. Meet me at the shore this evening.”

Shaena was about to ask her where when her lady-in-waiting rushed off, her fast pace increasing to a run. _It is the only way,_ Shaena thought to herself as she watched her friend run off, _if I marry Rhaegar, then my children will be kings and queens and will perish because of the crown they wear._ Shaena inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nerves, and walked back to the castle.

 

* * *

  

_Though originally as well-liked as her elder brother the crown prince, Princess Shaena’s popularity suffered greatly from the events of the Tourney at Lannisport. For the first time, rumours spread through the realm that the princess practised witchcraft and had enchanted the noble Lord Brandon of House Stark with spells and magic. King Aerys II, who we would come to refer to as the Mad King, once fuelled these rumours by stating, “There is more than just fire in dragon blood.” This marked the beginning of the slandering of Princess Shaena’s name. Accusations of witchcraft would haunt her throughout her life._

 

* * *

  

Shaena’s leg was bouncing up and down with excitement as she watched the men ready themselves for the joust. She saw Ser Barristan put on his helm while his squire held his lance. His opponent, the handsome Lord Brandon, was sat upon his horse, waiting for the joust to begin.

“I hear Lord Brandon is a worthy opponent,” Jon Connington commented, whispering the words into Rhaegar’s ear. The poor fool was in love with her brother, any half blind idiot could see it. Shaena pitied him, for Rhaegar could never love anyone but himself and his books.

“Hm,” Rhaegar mused. “Even for our Ser Barristan the Bold?”

Lord Connington barked a laugh. “That remains to be seen, my prince.”

“I didn’t know they even had tourneys in the north,” Rhaegar replied.

“They don’t,” Lord Connington answered. “But Lord Brandon squired for some knightly northern house with southern ideals. I suppose they taught him the southern arts there.”

Rhaegar laughed quietly. “You gossip too much, my friend.”

Connington beamed at Rhaegar. _A fool in love._ Shaena almost scoffed. She wanted to slap some sense into poor Jon Connington, yet she knew her warnings would fall on deaf ears. Like everyone else, Rhaegar could do no wrong in Connington’s eyes.

“Brother,” Shaena interrupted their conversation, flashing both men a dazzling smile. Irritation came upon her brother’s face briefly, before he hid it with indifference. “I was wondering if you planned to participate in the tourney. Would you be so gracious to grant us all such a wonderful sight?”

Only Rhaegar heard the sarcasm in her voice, so he responded in kind. “Of course, sister. I plan to participate in the next round. Would you grant me your favour, dear sister?”

“Forgive me, my prince.” Shaena looked for the owner of the voice. Lord Brandon stood before them, on top of his horse. He smiled handsomely, Shaena noted, like a true knight. “I was going to ask the princess the same thing. Would you honour me by granting me your favour, princess? With the prince’s leave, of course.”

A quick flash of anger graced Rhaegar’s beautiful face, but feeling all eyes upon him and not wanting to seem possessive, Rhaegar smiled and gave his leave. Lord Brandon then turned to her father. Shaena’s heartbeat sped up. _You gallant fool. You beautiful fool._

“My king,” Brandon addressed. The king turned to look at him, his eyes narrowed viciously as he looked upon the young northern heir. “Do I have your permission to wear your daughter’s favour?”

The king waved his hand dismissively and once again continued ranting about Lord Tywin to his kingsguard, his words tinged with madness. Relief filled Shaena. Lord Brandon looked to her next for her answer.

“I give my favour to you. Gladly,” she told him. Wearing a very large grin, Shaena stood up and wrapped her favour around Brandon’s lance. He inclined his head towards her respectfully, a cheeky smirk on his lips, before he rode off to participate in the joust.

“What are you doing?” Rhaegar whispered, pulling Shaena out of her excitement.

“What do you mean?”

“You are my betrothed, whether we like it or not.” Rhaegar sighed heavily. “No matter how we feel towards each other, we must appear united. Don’t you understand? Giving your favour to the northerner will be perceived as you favouring him over me.”

Shaena rolled her eyes at the crown prince. “Oh, dear brother. Stop being so overbearing. Perhaps I do prefer Lord Brandon to you.”

Rhaegar scoffed. “You barely know him.”

“I barely know you, really,” Shaena mused. She met her brother’s eyes daringly and gave him a small smirk.

Huffing, Rhaegar stood and announced, “I have to ready myself for the joust.”

“Good luck, _my love_ ,” the princess said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Rhaegar rolled his eyes and left them. Shaena huffed and turned her attention to the joust. Stupid, stupid Rhaegar. Why would anyone wish for such a man? Yet half the realm was entranced by him. Girls were stupid.

Lord Brandon won firstly against Ser Barristan, surprising them all, and some knights Shaena could not remember the name of. Rhaegar unhorsed a dozen western knights and both of Lord Tywin’s brothers. Though Shaena resented her brother, she had to admit he was a fine lance.

The final tilt was between her brother and Lord Brandon. Familial ties would have her wish for Rhaegar’s victory, yet Shaena hoped that the man wearing her favour would win the tilt. She clapped wildly for Lord Brandon, screaming with the crowd for the “Black Wolf.” Most favoured her brother, as always, but some, like the princess, wanted the northern heir to be victorious.

The two men – the prince and the wolf – urged their horses into a gallop after the horn blew. Determination etched in both their faces, Lord Brandon wore a smirk as his lance collided with Rhaegar’s chest, causing several of the red rubies that adorned the prince’s armour to fly of his chest.

Shaena rose from her seat and clapped and yelled for Lord Brandon. The northern heir turned to her and grinned, a crown of red roses in his hands. The screaming crowd became silent as Brandon urged his horse towards her. Shaena beamed. _Let them all see. Let them all gossip. Let Rhaegar be enraged._ The only person she worried about was her father, yet all worries were forgotten as Brandon Stark held the crown of red roses over her head and declared her the queen of love and beauty.

The silence was broken abruptly when the king began clapping and laughing. Shaena stiffened, though her eyes never moved from Brandon’s face, as his never left hers. “A loyal subject crowns his princess before any other. Wouldn’t you say, Lord Tywin?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the king’s hand replied flatly.

“Thank you, Lord Brandon. You honour me,” Shaena said.

He gave his princess another one of his easy smiles. “The honour is all mine.” He bowed to her and left to have his wounds tended. Shaena found herself swooning. She sighed. _Was this love? Is this what all the singers go on about in the songs?_ She had never felt this way for Rhaegar. She would _never_ feel this way for Rhaegar.

 

* * *

  

“Good gods, Ned. I can practically hear your thinking. Speak freely.”

As Brandon dressed himself in his normal attire, his brother Ned kept scowling at him. Perhaps he had been a fool to flirt with a princess, but he could not help himself. Brandon had always been of a passionate nature and when he saw the beautiful princess, he was entranced.

“Of all the women to ask for their favours and try to seduce,” Ned began, “you had to pick the princess. The...” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “the daughter of Mad Aerys? What were you thinking, Brandon?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Brandon replied hotly. “This was not some carefully thought out plan. I never planned to risk angering the king. I didn’t – I didn’t think.” He let out a loud huff and sat down on the foot of his bed. “She is so beautiful.”

“She is,” Ned agreed, sitting next to his brother. “But she is not some lowborn northern girl you can seduce, Brandon. She is the daughter of the king. Be smart, for once.”

“I thank you for your faith in me, brother,” Brandon said sarcastically.

“Am I wrong?” Ned asked. “Are you not usually easily led by passion?”

Brandon hesitated, thinking about his brother’s statement before he huffed again. “Damn you, Ned.”

“For what?”

“For being right,” Brandon replied in frustration. “I won’t let passion lead me this time. It’s too dangerous.”

Ned nodded his agreement and gave his brother a reassuring smile. _Damn you, Ned._ His brother had more of a similarity to the honourable Starks of old than he could ever hope to. Ned was a Stark, through and through, though he lacked the wolfsblood that ran strongly through his and Lya’s veins.

“Away with you, Ned. I should like to rest before this damned feast.” _Before the princess tempts me again. If I am to resist her allure, then I ought to be well-rested._

A small smile on his lips, Ned nodded again and stood up. He left the room silently. Just as his brother opened the door, Brandon heard the sound of footsteps approaching and stood up. “Princess,” he heard his brother greet. Brandon’s heart raced.

“Eddard Stark, is it not?” the princess replied. His brother must have nodded, for she continued to speak. “I have come to see your brother, to see if he is well. Or is he sleeping?”

“Yes, he is-” Ned replied too quickly.

Brandon appeared behind his brother and gave the princess a large smile, making sure that Ned couldn’t send the princess away. “Awake and well,” Brandon interrupted, “and delighted to see his princess. Would you like to come in?” Ned turned around and gave him a look. Brandon gave him a look back while Princess Shaena watched their exchange with confusion. Ned sighed, his shoulders deflating, and stepped aside.

“I would... love to,” the princess replied carefully. “It was nice to meet you, Lord Eddard.”

“Likewise, princess,” Ned responded. He shot his brother a warning look before leaving him with the princess.

Princess Shaena gave him a large, bright smile. “Your brother, I’m presuming?”

“Unfortunately,” Brandon grumbled, pouring the princess a cup of ale from the pitcher.

“I can relate, believe me,” the princess replied, laughing. Brandon’s ears perked up at the mention of the crown prince, silently willing her to speak more about the brother she was betrothed to. _If she does not like him, then perhaps I have a chance._ No. He stopped himself. To seduce the princess was to risk the anger of the king. Princess Shaena spoke no further of her brother. “You are a fine lance, Lord Stark.”

Brandon chuckled. “Thank you, princess, though I believe I owe my victory to you.” Seeing the princess’ confusion, Brandon smiled at her. “I was determined to place the crown on top of my princess’ head after you let me wear your favour.”

The princess graced him with more laughter. “The princess would not have minded.” She hesitated for a moment, wondering if what she had planned to say was suitable to say in front of a man who was little more than a stranger to her. “That was very brave of you. Had my father been in a worse mood, he would have had you whipped for asking for my favour, and then for crowning me.”

“It would have been well worth the risk, my lady,” Brandon told her.

She beamed up at him, a teasing grin on her lips. “Are you flirting with me, Lord Stark?”

Laughing, Brandon asked her, “Am I that obvious?”

“Very,” Shaena replied, giggling like a little girl.

“Is it working?” Brandon sat beside her, laying his hand on her knee. He leaned in closer, and closer, and closer, until their lips were touching. It was chaste at first, their lips brushing against each other before Brandon slipped his tongue into her mouth and the kiss became more passionate, _hotter_. Brandon felt his cock stir. Then, abruptly, the princess stood up and walked out of the room without any warning, without saying goodbye. Brandon stared after her, confusion etched on his face.

 _You stupid, stupid fool,_ he chastised himself as he lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. _What is a mere northern heir to the crown prince?_

 

* * *

  

The next few days passed in a blur. Despite her best efforts, Shaena could not get the handsome northerner out of her head. She no longer enjoyed dancing at feasts, or gossiping, even watching the tourney was unenjoyable for her. The worst was when she saw Brandon Stark at feasts or around the castle. Her heart yearned for him. How she hated to be one of those simple girls who needed a man to make her feel whole, yet she could not help herself. She had to have him. She had to be his.

She rushed through the castle, her hood over her head and covering her silver hair as she walked towards the kitchens. Brandon was to meet her there, if he had received her note. Her mind was made up. _To hell with Rhaegar, and Father, and everyone else! They do not matter to me._

Shaena waited for him by the kitchens. As soon as she saw Brandon, she grinned widely at him and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the cellar where the Lannisters of Lannisport kept their ale. She pressed her lips against his in a feverish kiss. Brandon made a funny little squeak at the sudden contact, but melted into the kiss soon enough.

“Forgive me for being so... flighty, I suppose is the word,” she told him, breaking the kiss for a second before pressing her lips against his again. “And indecisive.” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “But I... I can’t stop thinking about you. I had to see you.”

Brandon smiled at her fondly. “The sentiment is shared princess. I have not been able to get you off my mind either.”

“Shaena,” she corrected. “Please, call me Shaena. I should like to hear you say my name.”

“Shaena,” he repeated without hesitation, grinning like a madman. “Shaena, Shaena, Shaena. May I kiss you again, _Shaena_?”

She had never felt so happy. The princess nodded. “You may,” she replied and let him kiss her again with even more passion. Shaena felt the area between her legs throb as Brandon touched her breasts. It was improper and perhaps sinful, but Shaena found herself blinded by want. Brandon pressed her against the wall, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his lips and lowered her hands to cup Brandon’s manhood, a thin layer of cloth between her hand and his cock. She felt it stirring.

“We cannot,” Brandon said suddenly, pulling away from her. Shaena looked at him in shock. “It it not honourable. I am promised to another and you- to be queen. It’s not right. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Shaena assured him, cupping his face in her hands and smiling at him. “I do not want to marry my brother. Nor to become queen. I love him not. He is boring and so dreadfully reserved. He does not thrill me as you do. He cannot make my blood rush as you can, Brandon. Does Catelyn Tully inspire such passion from you, as I do?”

“Never,” Brandon replied. “No woman ever could.”

“Why should we be unhappy, when we have found happiness in each other?” Shaena asked him.

“Let me have you honourably,” he said, beaming down at her. He tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear. “As man and wife. What do you say?”

Shaena couldn’t stop the squeal that came out of her mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fervently. “Yes! A thousand yeses.”

“Your father will not be pleased,” Brandon chuckled. Shaena felt his breath against her lips, his forehead pressed against hers. “He might even have my head.”

“He will not. Don’t even joke about such things,” Shaena chided him. “I will not let him harm you. We will be happy, Brandon. I promise you. Happier than I could have ever dreamed.”

Brandon merely smiled at his wife-to-be and kissed her again.

  


End file.
